


Falling Soon, Falling Soon

by paperwar



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperwar/pseuds/paperwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's mid-laugh when he kisses her, there in the middle of the forest. He didn't know he was going to do it. But maybe there's something about how they've just happened to end up walking through the trees together that makes it inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Soon, Falling Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Natsume Yuujinchou comment meme](http://natsumeyuujinchou.dreamwidth.org/7316.html).
> 
> Title from "All Day Afternoon" by the Judybats.

Taki has this way of looking at Tanuma. It doesn't matter if she's laughing or being serious; the intensity makes him feel like he's been knocked sprawling every time. She's mid-laugh when he kisses her, there in the middle of the forest. He didn't know he was going to do it. But maybe there's something about how they've just happened to end up walking through the trees together that makes it inevitable. She smells somehow of autumn, a vaguely spicy scent that reminds him of falling leaves, of a crispness to the air, of bonfires.

He's surprised, not unpleasantly, when her hands fly up to tangle in his hair: his daring rewarded as she draws him closer. Her tongue flicks against his and retreats. Maybe she's nervous too. But he likes it, so his tongue pursues hers, and her grip on him tightens.

They break apart a moment later. She's gasping as she says, "Tanuma," and looks at him. The laughter's gone from her face. She takes her finger and traces along his jaw, up to his ear. It's a little odd but not unwelcome. After that she doesn't seem to know where to go from there, and she's blushing a little as she withdraws her hand, and yes, she is laughing again and looking at him and he's looking back and then she kisses him this time. And it's good, it's so good.

He puts his arms around her. They'd been hovering uncertainly by his side, making tentative overtures and occasionally making contact with the edges of her clothes, if not actually her. But now, emboldened, he finds that she feels right in his embrace. Solid and real and _there_.

The air is warm for this late into autumn, and there's even some sunshine that makes its way through the leaves. She pulls away and he has a moment of panic before she takes him by the hand and tugs gently.

Oh. She wants to sit down. Under the trees. She wants to sit down together and keep doing this?

How did he get here? he wonders dimly as he finds himself on the grass, ever so slightly damp from the rain a few days ago, with her hands now starting to explore his skin. There's a hesitancy in her touch, as if now she's the one feeling uncertain. He lets out a sigh in her mouth, then instantly worries that was somehow a rude thing, a wrong thing to do. But it doesn't seem to faze her; in fact, she seems to take it as encouragement.

He still doesn't understand it, the moments and stares and heartbeats that have led up to this moment, him here under the trees with Taki. It's the kind of terrible and wonderful thing he almost doesn't want to look too closely at, for fear that, under scrutiny, it will dissolve, or morph into something less wonderful.

Because this is wonderful, here. This is fingers sliding under his shirt, the press of her body, her breasts, on him as she, direct as ever, guides him onto his back. He's still nervous about, well, everything. But especially his hands: where does he put them? Where do they go? If Taki can do that -- that! -- with her hands, maybe he can as well?

She doesn't seem to mind. Maybe she even likes it? His hands tremble as he eases first one, then the other, onto her breasts, through her clothes. They're soft; he didn't know what he was expecting, but they're both exactly what he's imagined and completely, bafflingly, astonishingly new. She shifts above him, her weight balanced on just the right spot, and takes one of his hands in hers. Did he do too much? Make a mistake? Cross a line? No, she's guiding him to the hem of her shirt, the warm sleek skin of her stomach. And above that? He can't refuse such a direct invitation.

Her bra is an irritation, but it's stretchy enough that his fingers can creep underneath. The sounds she's making are very encouraging, especially when he runs a finger tentatively around her nipple, marveling at what his touch does to it.

He sends his other hand to join the first one, and she's still leaning on him, on that same perfect place, their tongues frantic in each other's mouths. She starts to rock, just little nudges of her pelvis, really, and she's pushing her breasts closer into his grip and rubbing against him, and now he's the one moaning in her mouth, hands frozen until she shakes impatiently, shoving back against his fingers to remind him.

Somehow he keeps his hands moving and his hips jerking against her in some vague coordinated rhythm and there's still their tongues, thrashing against each other, until that becomes too much to manage and they're both just making greedy incoherent sounds. Or maybe that's just him? He can't quite tell what's him and what's her and suddenly there's -- it's like... starlight and sunlight and everything all too much and too fast and _yes_.

He catches his breath and opens his eyes and Taki's looking down at him, her face right there, eyes huge. She slides partway off him, keeping one leg in between his. She takes his hand, brings it to her mouth for a kiss. He thinks, for an instant, that she might put his fingers in her mouth, and wishes she did. And then, looking very seriously at him, one of those looks that tears him open inside, she brings his hand to her thigh, yes, to the edge of her skirt.

It's obvious what she wants, but he's dazed and hesitant. She ducks her head in for a kiss, hard, and drags his hand to her underwear. And here's something new again, as he dips his fingers under the elastic. He hardly has to do anything here at all; she's grinding against his fingers and he's sort of twitching them. He still doesn't know what to do, really, but she seems to like it; her arms are locked around his head and she's panting against his lips. He moves his hand and suddenly his fingers are inside her. He's not really sure by whose volition, but they're there and he can feel her, warm and wet and tensing against him. He starts to think about how that might feel if it wasn't his fingers that were there. And suddenly she tenses again and stops and shivers and lets out this tiny, tremulous noise against him.

And that's it. Except it isn't, because they curl up together, her head under his chin, face pressing into his neck, breath warm on his skin. His heartbeat pulses at his neck and he thinks she must be able to feel it as well. They're there under the trees, on a carpet of leaves, and it's getting cold and he's kind of _messy_ right now, and they should go, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to break this moment. Because what if it never happens again, what if they never get to this place again?

It's at that instant that she lifts her face, so close to his he can feel her breath on his lips as she says, “Next time we'll have to do this indoors. Until spring, anyway.” The corner of her lip is pulling upwards and yes, now she's smiling and he's smiling back at her and it's okay, it's okay, it's more than okay. So they disentangle themselves and stand up and brush off their clothes and walk home holding hands.


End file.
